"Kurobashi's wife- I stopped and corrected myself. "Kurobashi's widow is named Machiko. I have no idea what her maiden name was, but she did mention that she was originally from Nagasaki.
"I see, Winter said, nodding thoughtfully. "So the sword could have been hers all along. Do you suppose she'd be interested in selling it?
I remembered what Machiko had said about wanting the sword back, wanting it for Kimi.
"I wouldn't know about that, I said. "Once she gets it back, I believe her intention is to give it to Kimiko, her daughter, although it may not be that important to Kimi. According to her, she never saw the sword before the night of her father's death, never even knew it existed.
"Strange, wouldn't you say? Winter asked.
"What do you mean? I asked, although I had already reached the same conclusion myself.
"Why keep it hidden all this time? Even from close family members. Winter shook his head before adding, "Not only that, Ralph mentioned something about the Kurobashi family being in dire financial straits, that they were being forced to file bankruptcy proceedings. Keeping the sword hidden doesn't make sense when you consider how much the sword would have brought if they had sold it.
"How much would that be? I asked.
Winter took a slow sip of wine before he answered. "It could be as much as several million, he said deliberately. "Especially if some of the museums get into a bidding war over it. But you still haven't told me how the sword came to be in this country in the first place.
"I don't know, I replied. "We'll need to ask Machiko about that.
"Where is she?
"Over in eastern Washington.
"Do you think it would be possible for me to talk to her? Winter looked at me appraisingly. "After all, if the mother does decide to put the sword on the market, I'd very much like to be involved. I can assure you, it would be beneficial for all concerned.
What he said made sense. Any way you sliced it, Machiko and Kimi Kurobashi were probably going to be in a bind for money. If they did decide to sell the sword, simply being represented by Sotheby's, one of the world's biggest and most respected dealers in fine arts, would automatically up the ante.
"I'll speak with her about it, I said. "She may be interested, but I don't know.
I picked up my fork and tried again. Winter paused with his own fork halfway to his mouth, watching my struggle. "What did you do, slam your hand in a door? he asked.
"You must be psychic, I said, and let it go at that.
Before Ames had a chance to get in his two cents worth about my hand, Andrew Halvorsen rescued me from the table with a perfectly timed telephone call.
"They caught him, he announced triumphantly. "I just got word from a detective back in Schaumburg, Illinois.
"Caught who?
"David Lions. He tried to buy a television set at a place called Woodfield Mall. They say it's close to the airport. The Visa people alerted the store as soon as they called in for credit approval. Lions made a run for it, but a security guard happened to be walking past in the mall. Lions practically fell into his arms.
"A television set? I asked. "What the hell would he want with a television set?
"Beats me. It was one of those big-screen color jobs, too. At least that's what the dick from Schaumburg told me. He called a few minutes ago looking for a rap sheet. I told him we didn't have one.
My first thought was for Dana Lions, David Lions' daughter, waiting at home in Kalama. By now her father had probably already called, asking her to post his bail.
"Have you talked to the daughter yet? I asked.
Halvorsen paused. "No, not yet. I thought I'd let you do that since you were the one who talked to her to begin with.
"Gee thanks, I muttered. "That's big of you.
Minutes later, I was on the phone with Dana Lions, giving her the bad news. She took it stoically, like someone who has been through it all before, like someone far too familiar with the ropes when it comes to bailing a family member out of scrapes with the law.
"Thanks for calling and letting me know, Detective Beaumont. I'll phone back there right away and see what's what.
I was still sitting beside the telephone looking at my hand and feeling it throb when the phone rang. It was Dana Lions. Again.
"It's not my dad, she said, relief bubbling in her voice. "They arrested somebody else.
"Somebody else? Who?
"I don't know, but the man they arrested is black. My father definitely isn't black.
"But he was using your father's credit card?
"That's right. The guy finally admitted that he bought the card from someone selling stolen cards at the United Terminal in O'Hare. I don't understand, Detective Beaumont. What does it all mean?
I had a pretty good idea what it meant, but I didn't want to go into it right then. Dana Lions was still nurturing a small spark of hope for her father. I refused to douse it with bad news until absolutely necessary.
"You'll let me know if you hear from him? I asked.
"Sure will, she said.
I considered calling Halvorsen back to let him know what Dana had learned, but I decided against it. My hand was still throbbing like mad. Instead of having another drink of any kind, I took the aspirin Dr. Blair had recommended.
By this time, Ames and Winters had left the dining room and returned to the kitchen. Despite his silk shirt, Winters was soon up to his elbows in soap suds as he tackled the trail of cooking pots Ames had left in his wake.
They were both talking and scrubbing away, happy as two little clams. They didn't look as though they needed or wanted any help. I thanked Ames for dinner, wished them both a good night, and excused myself. Before I crawled into bed, I called Machiko Kurobashi at Honeydale Farm.
I more than half expected her to be in bed asleep, but she listened carefully to my halting explanation of who Archie Winter was and what he wanted. When I finished, her response wasn't what I expected, either.
"Have him call, she answered gravely. "We talk.
"I'll do that, I said.
Padding barefoot back down the hall to the almost clean kitchen, I handed a scrap of paper to Archie Winter. "Here's Mrs. Kurobashi's number, I said. "I told her what you wanted, and she said you're welcome to call.
With that, I returned to the bedroom and crawled into bed.
CHAPTER 14
I may have been in bed, but I hardly slept. I lay there listening to the droning voices of Ames and Winter. At one Winter left to return to his hotel. At two, Ames turned off the music and went to bed in the guest room. By four in the morning, the throbbing in my hand had me wide awake and pacing the floor, wondering if I could last the five interminable hours until Dr. Blair's office opened. During that dark time, the long hours between then and sunrise, I managed to convince myself that the good doctor's telephone diagnosis of sub-whatever was incorrect and that I was really developing a bad case of blood poisoning.
Early morning is a good time for really creative worrying. I never did go back to sleep.
I was sitting alone at the dining room table and drinking my third cup of coffee when the phone rang at seven. It was Ron Peters, calling for the first time since he and Amy had left to go on their honeymoon. Amy had insisted that the girls and their baby-sitter, Mrs. Edwards, go along on the trip. She said that since they were all going to live together as a family, a trip to the Oregon Coast would be a good way of getting started. That wasn't my idea of a perfect honeymoon, but from the animated sound of Peters' voice, they were having a great time.